


Together Always

by irisqod



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Choices, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Mind Palace, Old Age, end of life, get the tissues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 21:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisqod/pseuds/irisqod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock makes a choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together Always

Sherlock woke to the light of the full moon shining on his face, but that wasn’t what woke him.

Something in the room had changed, something was different; wrong somehow.

He reached for John, who was sleeping next to him as he had for forty years. He touched his hand and it was warm and dry and perfectly still. Sherlock placed his fingers against the skin of John’s wrist and took his pulse as he had everyday of those forty years. John would tease him about it. _"I’m fine, love, its still beating and it’s still yours.”_

But there was none. That was what the change was, what was wrong.

John was no longer there. 

John’s breathing had stopped and that is what woke Sherlock.

“Oh, John,” Sherlock’s voice broke as he spoke the name of his beloved and began to weep. He turned his face to John’s still form and let the tears come. Hot scalding they flowed and soaked the fabric of John’s soft white shirt. Surely the horrible wailing sound in the room wasn’t coming from him, was it? He didn’t care and let the storm rage until it blew itself out.

He sat up, got out of bed and went to his computer. Logging onto his email he sent a message to Molly:

_Dear Molly,_  
 _Would you be so kind as to come and collect John and I tomorrow? There will be an envelope for you on the table by the front door. I should like to avoid a coroner’s inquest for my granddaughters’ sake’s._  
 _Thank you, for everything. You have been a great friend._  
 _Love,_  
 _Sherlock._

It would be the first and last time he would tell Molly he’d loved her. He sent the message and went to fetch the aforementioned envelope. John didn’t know about it. No one did.

Sherlock and John had planned for their eventual passing – they had wills and knew how their estate was to be disposed – but Sherlock had a contingency plan all of his own in case John preceded him in death. He had no intention of spending any more time with out John. He’d always thought that being alone was his protection, and then he’d met John and all of that changed with one gunshot. He was alone for three years to protect John and that had been intolerable. Who knew how much longer he would live? The thought of doing so without John filled him with a panic so deep he couldn’t put a name to it.

So, he placed the envelope for Molly where he said it would be found. It contained a copy of their wills, a set of keys to the cottage and a letters to Ewan and his grand daughters, Torrie and Libby. He hoped with time, the girls would understand.

He let himself out into the night, the air was cool but not unpleasantly so, and the full moon lit his way. Walking down the path through John’s garden he mourned his love. The flowers were lovely even with their colours washed away by the moonlight. He went to visit with his bees, placing his hand on each hive to feel the low sonorous buzzing from within.

Looking back at the cottage he sighed. He had spent a happier life than he ever imagined he would before he met John and had done things he never believed he would. He took a deep breath of the cool night air and started back up the path to the cottage. His peace was made and his mind was settled. Time to get on with it.

Climbing the stairs, he avoided the one creaky stair tread out of habit. It had always woken John up on nights when he’d come to bed late. He smiled to himself.

The moon had shifted and now John lay framed in the patch of moonlight cast through the window. He looked like he was merely sleeping, not as if elemental force that made him “John” was gone. His features were relaxed; he must have just slipped away. Taken one last breath in, let it out and left his body along with it. 

Sherlock climbed back under the duvet and folded himself protectively around John’s body. He was not as warm as he’d been when Sherlock first awoke. That brought the tears back. Sherlock swallowed them back and kissed John’s cheek.

“I love you.”

He closed his eyes and immediately his mind palace was in view. It was much larger now than in his youth – entire wings had been added since then. John had his own wing as did Ewan and the girls.

The huge front doors opened of their own accord upon his approach. He crossed the threshold and wandered the corridors for a while. Passed the rooms for Mrs. Hudson, his mother, his time at Uni. Mycroft had a room and so did Greg. There was a boarded up room with a tiny silver magpie on the ebony door. The faint odor or chlorine lingered around this room. He never went in there. 

There were rooms for his books, his musical knowledge and for everything he’d ever learned about chemistry, anatomy and psychology. There was the room where the memories of his drug use were kept. It was locked, but not boarded up like the magpie room.

He came to the largest wing on the palace. It was, of course, dedicated to every single memory Sherlock had of John - from that first day at Bart’s to this one, the last.

His fingers outlined the golden letters J.H.W. and pushed the door open. This was the most often visited wing in the palace. Sherlock would come here when John was away or he just needed to calm down. It was peaceful here.

With a touch of his hand to the door, he swung it closed. There was a lock on the inside with an ornate key. Once the key was turned and the lock engaged, it could not be opened. Once the bolt was in place, the keyway would dissolve and he would not be able to remember how to re-create it. He’d made sure of it when he had installed it, years ago. 

There was one last change he wanted to make to the palace. With a thought, the room that held his music was now a conservatory off of this wing. 

Taking a deep breath to still his nerves, he turned the key and it became so much smoke in his fingers. The brass plate was smooth and unmarked; the doorknob was gone.

“ _Sherlock_ ”

He turned and John was there, just as he’d looked the first time they met. He held his arms out for Sherlock who allowed himself to be folded against the strong, young body of his husband.

 

~**~

They were buried together on the property  
Side by side in death as in life  
Never parted  
Eternal

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me the other night when I was woken by the full moon shining on me.


End file.
